


Calling Off Genius

by shinkonokokoro



Series: Sherlock and Avengers [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: Brunette Geniuses and their Blonde Soldiers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-19
Updated: 2012-07-19
Packaged: 2017-11-10 07:45:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinkonokokoro/pseuds/shinkonokokoro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another Tony/Steve team up with Sherlock/John adventure!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calling Off Genius

 Long since tired of listening to Tony and Sherlock argue themselves hoarse about theoretical chemistry, Steve sought out Captain Watson, four and a half hours into their quarantine. The doctor had wandered off two hours ago, claiming a need for solitude and sleep. Steve found him in a corner behind the sofa they'd been given. He sat.

Steve cracked an eye. “They still arguing?”

Steve nodded. “They're probably reaching an end of it, however, seeing as they can hardly speak anymore.”

John huffed quietly, eyes closing again. “Do we know how much longer we need to be here?”

Steve shrugged. Whatever they'd been doused with had likely worn off by now, but, as always SHIELD was thorough and didn't want them wandering around when they had any chance at all of having a chance of being contagious. Not that there seemed to be any side-effects. “Probably about another twelve hours...”

John groaned. “I'm going to lose my mind...”

Leaning against the wall, Steve regarded the captain. “Do you spar?”

John's eyes opened and he stared at Steve with a mixture of disbelief and horror. “I'm sorry, what?”

“Sparring?” Steve repeated, brow furrowing.

“Yes, I heard you the first time. I just didn't believe it...” John frowned and sat up, scratching at his shoulder.

“Would you like to?” Steve asked again. He hoped so because he was getting a bit stir-crazy himself.

Snorting, John stood. “You'd have to go easy on me; I haven't done anything like this in years, you understand.”

Steve grinned and moved to open space away from the sofa. “What about all the running across London I hear you do.”

“That, my friend, is running. Not hand-to-hand combat with Captain America.”

“Fine. Do you have a preferred style?”

“Punching?” John quipped, getting up to follow him and settling into a steady stance.

Laughing, Steve took a couple of swings to assess what Watson knew and then let John test him out. “Alright.” They'd gone several rounds, Steve teaching John tricks and moves he could easily be able to manage despite his shoulder, when their respective geniuses came over. Neither noticed them at first, Sherlock settling down and hugging his knees to his chest, Tony flopping next to him, legs in a V with his hands behind him for support.

“We've got an audience,” John panted.

“What?” Steve straightened, noticed the geniuses, and then grinned at Tony.

“Hey honey,” Tony said, hoarsely, waving at him. “You never taught _me_ that one...”

“Which?”

Gesturing, Tony waved a hand. “The spinning leg punch one.”

But Steve had to spin out of the doctor's reach. “Good! Catching your opponent off guard.”

John rolled his eyes. “If there's one thing I know, it's catching your opponent off guard...” He threw a look at Sherlock who looked alarmed and then stuck his nose in the air.

Laughing, Steve shook out his arms. “Done?”

“God, yes. I'm going to hurt tomorrow.”

“That's what she said,” Tony rasped with a grin.

“Who?” Sherlock asked.

Tony looked at him, jaw hanging slack.

Sherlock tossed his head, a small snarl appearing on his face. “Well? Who is 'she'?”

Guffawing, Tony looked at Steve and John, as if to ask 'were they hearing this shit?' 

Steve tittered, turning red, but John finally took pity on his poor genius and flopped onto the floor next to him. “It's a joke, Sherlock.”

“I don't see why it's funny...”

Tony laughed harder.

Feeling his face heat, John cleared his throat. “I said I was going to hurt tomorrow. Tony said 'that's what she said,' like  _she's_ going to hurt tomorrow. As if from...well. Sex.”

Sherlock made another face. “I still fail to see why that's funny.”

Tony was rolling on the floor, howling. 

“Americans....” Sherlock spat. “Crass lot of...” he coughed, his voice fading. He ducked his head in towards his chest and wrapped his arms tighter around his knees.

Steve giggled a bit—but only because Tony was laughing so hard—and it'd been ages since he'd seen him really crack up like this, let go. “I'm sorry...” he apologised, gasping. “Sorry, we're being kind of rude...”

Tony, spread star-fish on the floor, panted and giggled left-over giggles until he could breath normally. “Wow. So that was good fun. How much more time?” 

“Maybe about ten and a half hours...” Steve guestimated.

Groaning, Tony sat up and looked around. “I'm bored out of my mind here—”

“As am I...” Sherlock grumbled.

“So... Anybody up for a nap? See if we can't waste some of these hours away?” Tony got to his feet, heading towards the sofa.

“Where? I can't do sleeping on the floor anymore,” John said. 

“Neither can I,” Tony replied. He flopped onto the sofa. “I'm willing to share. Any takers?”

John looked around, surprised when  _Sherlock_ was the first one to get up and go over to the couch.

“Sherlock...”

“You're exhausted, John, especially after your...match...with Captain Rogers. Physically and you've been mentally tired for a while. I could sleep. My discussion with Mr. Stark—”

“Invitation rescinded,” Tony said casually, he knew Sherlock did it because he hated it. 

“—has indeed tired me out, and I believe I could...nap.”

John shrugged, helped up off the floor by Steve as the two blondes wandered over to the sofa. That Tony was currently stretched across.

“Go ahead. Two arms and a back. Plenty of space,” the man grinned.

Steve arched a brow and grabbed him up, slinging him over his shoulder (amidst much yelping) before sitting next to one arm and plopping Tony next to him. 

“I hate you.”

“Sure you do,” Steve said cheerily.

Sherlock and John mimicked Steve and Tony's positions, John on the outside, Sherlock inside to lean against him. Drifting off, however, was another matter. Some shifting and Steve was nearly horizontal, leaning against the arm of the sofa, Tony across his lap. Sherlock had curled mostly on John's lap, John stretching his legs out in front of him. 

Tony's brain whirred. Sherlock's brain whirred. Steve and John, military men, wound theirs down slowly and were the first to drop off to sleep. Tony was tempted to be the third, but Sherlock kept looking at him. “What? What now?”

Sherlock shook his head. “You are a surprising individual sometimes, Tony.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Tony said, nestling into Steve's side.

Snorting, Sherlock stretched his legs a bit towards Tony's thigh. “Your issues are exhausting to  _me_ and I only see them. I cannot imagine how exhausting they must be to  _you_ to have to live with them.”

“Right back atcha,” Tony said, yawning.

Mirroring it, Sherlock shifted again, grunting when John's arm came around him to hold him still.

“Ha,” Tony murmured, dropping his legs across Sherlock's lap. 

“I hate Americans...” Sherlock muttered back.

“I take pride for that statement.” Tony grinned and the silence rolled out through the mostly-empty room. “Well... If I had to be stuck with somebody during quarantine, you're not so bad.”

Sherlock just hummed in agreement.

Tony didn't care. Ten hours to go? Bring it on. 


End file.
